by Jory Strong
“Not today.”
In fact, today she was giving herself permission to look, to touch, to taste, to do all the things she’d ever wanted to do with Mace.
This time her lips were the ones to quirk upward.
It’d be impossible to cram all of them into single day. Not if she wanted to sit or walk afterward.
Mace laughed. “I’m not sure it’s safe to ask, but exactly what are you thinking?”
She reached out, brushed her knuckles over his cheek. “I’m thinking I like the new look.”
Her hand dropped to his shoulder, flattened, moved to the center of his chest then headed downward.
He stopped it inches away from his waistband. “You’re playing a dangerous game.”
The warning in his voice was gasoline on glowing embers instead of water on fire. It left her breathless, filled her with a rush of feminine power.
“I can handle danger.”
Chapter Six
Mace tried to swallow the words but couldn’t. “You’re in over your head.”
“Let me worry about that.”
He’d have to. There was no turning back from where this was heading. But he didn’t release her hand. Any lower and she was going to get more than she was asking for. He’d have the front of his jeans open and her mouth on his cock.
Heat blazed through his dick at the prospect of it. The hand on the steering wheel tightened.
“Avery’s apartment is about three blocks from here,” she said. “Resident parking is around back. It’s fenced, so she either has to come out the way she went in, or go into the building.”
“Tell me when we get close enough for line-of-sight and I’ll grab street parking.”
Minutes later she did.
He snagged a spot. He waited until the Cabriolet had remained behind the apartment building long enough to be fairly sure it wasn’t going to dart onto the street, then cut the Roadster’s engine.
He didn’t like anything about this case. Hadn’t last night when Braden gave up the bare details, and he liked it even less after hearing about the trip into gang-marked territory.
“She usually stay put once she’s home?” he asked.
“I’ve got less than a week of personal time on this case, but based on the records her parents gave me when I met with them, the answer is yes.”
“They were spying on her?”
“No. They hired a PI and made him send detailed information to back up his invoices.”
What the fuck? “Why isn’t he still working this case?”
Grace shrugged. “He quit. Said something else needed his attention. They reached out to a friend, who had a friend…”
“And a favor was called in.”
“Yes.”
“Does Cade know all this?”
“Why should he?”
He’d have laughed if his insides weren’t burning with a fierce desire to make it clear to her that anything and everything was relevant when it came to her—especially information like this that amped up his gut read she’d been put in a dangerous situation.
The last guy on the case suddenly quitting bothered him. A lot. As did the fact Bulldog had the clout to get an answer as to why, and hadn’t.
He or Cade would sure as hell remedy that situation. And in the meantime, Grace would have at least one of them with her 24/7.
Mace left the hand trapping hers against his abdomen in place, used his other to reach for her the way he’d done earlier, only instead of a rough collaring, this was a slow savoring.
He braced himself for impact, suppressed a moan that tried to escape with the feel of her soft skin against his palm, the look of submission that instantly filled her eyes.
A rub of his thumb over her pulse and spikes of need streaked straight to this dick in time to the beat of her heart.
He drew her to him, considered that he was the one playing the dangerous game here, in thinking he could do anything with her and walk away afterward.
I can handle it.
I can handle her.
Her mouth reached his.
He took it gently, to prove he could. His lips parting hers. His tongue teasing, tasting, twining.
And suddenly he was starving for her, battling to stay in control.
Fuck. Fuck.
Soft was almost more devastating than hard. It intensified the desire to protect her, to keep her safe, to make her happy.
She crowded closer, fed the desire with a needy whimper that might as well have been her hand around his dick, urging him to cover her, claim her, satisfy her.
He wanted to drag her into his lap but had to settle for deepening the kiss, gentle sliding away with each thrust of his tongue, with each sound she made. She trembled, so needy and submissive that taking charge of her became an imperative.
The Roadster limited him, the location limited him, the situation did too, and Grace. He couldn’t bring himself to treat her the way he would a party girl who was either completely uninhibited or got a thrill at the prospect of being caught doing something wicked.
He couldn’t urge Grace’s mouth down to his dick or order it there. At home. In private. Yeah, but not in public.
But that didn’t mean he couldn’t take charge of her pleasure.
He moved the hand he’d trapped on his abs to her stomach. Crowded her, not breaking the kiss as he maneuvered her so her back was pressed to the passenger seat.
He lifted his mouth, eased his grip on her captured hand. Eyes staring into hers, he ordered, “Undo your jeans, Grace.”
The sharp catch of her breath sent a surge of heat downward. The darkening of her eyes threated to rip away his good intentions.
Her tongue darted out, swiped over her upper lip.
He slammed his mouth onto hers, his tongue driving between her lips. He meant to punish her for not obeying quickly enough, but it rapidly turned into self-inflicted torture because he couldn’t stretch her out beneath him and pound into her with his cock.
Breathing hard, he pulled back. “Do what I told you to do.”
Heat flared in her eyes. He felt an answering flare in his dick.
He wanted her. He’d wanted her from the start, but the depth of it, the texture of it had changed since Cade said he was done with casual.
It’d been easy to stay away at first because of her age, because she was a Montgomery, because it’d been obvious she wouldn’t be able to easily separate giving her body from giving her heart. But he’d always known she’d respond this way to him, to Cade.
Her fingers trembled as she undid the button, slid the zipper downward. Her pupils swallowed up more of the blue in her eyes. Her tongue darted out, and he fought the urge to follow it back into her mouth with his.
“Touch yourself.”
She shivered. Flushed.
Obeyed. Slipping her hand beneath the waistband of her panties and taking his with it, plunging him into a bonfire.
Heat engulfed him. He reclaimed her mouth. There was no denying himself the pleasure of swallowing the needy whimpers and soft moans as she touched herself.
White noise filled his head as her hand and fingers moved beneath his. His breathing became as labored, as fast as hers.
His dick throbbed. Screamed. Demanded as her hips lifted, jerked, her body straining, reaching, surrendering in release.
Fuck. Fuck. Would it really be so terrible to guide her mouth down to his cock?
He tried to blanket the roaring need with the satisfaction of having Grace come for him this way. He told himself this was enough for now, as far as he’d take it until he got her somewhere private. But he only got hotter watching her look of dazed pleasure slowly dissipate and a blush crawl up her neck and into her face.
He fought the urge to use the hand collaring her to guide her over and down.
Grace’s hand slipped from beneath the one in her panties, leaving him touching smooth, hot skin.
“Fuck.” Fuck. He couldn’t take much more of this.
&nb
sp; His mouth returned to hers. He rubbed his hand over her bare pussy, pressed his palm against her swollen clit and swallowed her moan. He pushed his fingers into her, fucking them in and out, matching the movement with the thrust of his tongue, creating a loop of desire.
It shuddered through him and into her, redoubling with each pass, intensifying, increasing with the tightening of Grace’s body, the arch and cry and her second surrender to release.
He jerked away from her. Jerked his hand out of her panties without ripping them downward to see her sweet pussy.
If he did that he’d never make it back to her place. He was already close to pulling her from the car and plastering her against the hood for a hard, fast, very public fuck.
He grabbed his cell, speed-dialed Cade. “We’re done here.”
“Where’s here?”
Mace’s chest tightened at hearing the satisfaction in Cade’s voice. You fucking knew where putting me with Grace would lead. But you’re wrong if you think it’s going to end up as anything more than me calling your dare.
“Line-of-sight at Avery’s apartment building,” he said.
“Tell Grace I got a fix on the guy. I can do more digging while I’m watching Avery’s place.”
Mace passed on the message. He pulled the Roadster away from the curb.
“No—”
“You do not want to tell me no, Grace.”
Erotic fear tightened Grace’s nipples and had renewed need pooling and quivering in her stomach.
There was a wealth of sensual threat in Mace’s voice, in the look he sent her way, in the grip he had on the steering wheel, like he was fighting to keep his hands there, and not put them on her.
It’d be a lie to say she didn’t recognize herself when she was around them, but only because she’d fantasized about being with them, and from the moment she’d opened her door and seen Cade, it’d been like stepping into the first of those fantasies, being wanted by them, giving herself to them.
Avery’s address should still be on the Beetle’s GPS. She texted Cade, asked, How far out are you?
20 minutes. 30 max.
There was a chance Avery would leave before Cade took over the surveillance. The odds were against it and she needed to be good with those odds. There was no turning back.
You don’t want to say no to me, Grace.
She didn’t want to say no, at least not this one time.
A shiver of need went through her. And that need intensified on the drive to her house. It became a breathless, full body trembling by the time they got inside and into her bedroom.
“Strip.”
Was it totally wicked to be so turned on by having Mace give that order?
Her body answered no with a hard shudder. How could it be when his eyes blazed with a matching hunger?
She was torn between baring herself and pressing herself against him, offering to take care of him first. Her gaze dipped to the front of his jeans, her tongue darted out, sweeping across her upper lip.
He closed the distance in an instant, hand clamping on the French braid. “That’s one time too many.”
His voice was guttural. His other hand was at the front of his jeans, unbuttoning, unzipping, freeing his cock.
A thrill ripped through her. Instead of feeling powerless, she felt all powerful.
The hard grip in her hair implied force, but she went willingly downward, giving him her eyes when her mouth reached his cock.
He was hot and smooth against her lips, long and thick. His heartbeat pulsed against her mouth.
She brushed her lips against his cock. His scent was masculine, clean with a hint of spice, his taste even better.
Mace unbraided her hair, speared his fingers through it, balling strands of blonde into powerful fists. “Do it, Grace.”
His voice was a harsh growl that sent additional moisture into her panties and plumped the lips of her sex. How many times had she fantasized about doing just this?
She kissed along his length. Loved him with the dart and swirl of her tongue, defied him even as she pleasured him.
His hands firmed on her hair in silent demand. His eyes burned with the promise of retribution while his body was rigid with need.
Finally she took him into her mouth, memorizing the expression of ecstasy on his face, savoring the victory that was his moan.
She closed her eyes. Everything disappearing but the feel of Mace, the scent and taste of him.
His cock surged, not in and out, but shallow and deep.
Shallow and deep.
Shallow and deep.
His need building. Her need building.
“Not like this,” he panted, pulling from her mouth.
She whimpered, opened her eyes and tried to follow, to reclaim.
The grip in her hair prevented it.
She reveled at the fiercely dominant expression on his face, the hot possessiveness in his eyes.
He guided her to her feet. And in that instant she wanted to believe being with her had stripped away all vestiges of being a player, exposing the real Mace. She wanted to believe he’d never looked at another woman the way he was looking at her.
Don’t she told herself, chastising her foolish heart only to have the words drown beneath the clamor and roar of desire when he growled, “Strip, Grace. Or I’ll do it for you and turn your ass red before I fuck you.”
Her buttocks clenched in reaction, not in denial. She might discover she didn’t like being spanked, but before this was over she wanted to experience sensual discipline.
She considered defying Mace for a split second, long enough that his body tensed as if he were about to make good on the threat.
Her hands went to the front of her jeans, self-preservation kicking-in, the voice of caution telling her it’d be safer for her heart to wait and play those kinds of games with Cade.
She kicked off her shoes. Peeled jeans and socks off. Got rid of the shirt, leaving her standing in wispy scraps of ocean blue.
Mace’s gaze roved, drinking her in. Making her feel beautiful, powerful, sensual.
She reached behind her, unclasped the bra.
Mace grabbed the front of it and tugged it from her body.
Her back arched instinctively, her eyes following his to breasts capped by love-bruised nipples, obvious evidence she’d been with Cade.
A surge of vulnerability swept in. The urge to cross her arms over her chest was strong. Unexpectedly strong.
“Don’t even think about trying to cover them up,” Mace growled.
He cupped her breasts. His thumbs rubbed over her nipples, banishing everything but need and pleasure.
She leaned into his touch.
His mouth came down to hers, his lips parting hers, softly at first, offering reassurance, telling her he didn’t think less of her for sharing herself with his brother. Then pressing more firmly, his tongue more aggressive, communicating the intention to have her, validating her belief that he wanted her even more because she had been with Cade.
She couldn’t care about what that meant for the future. Her hands glided over the muscles of his arms, over his shoulders, around and up into his hair, as if to hold him to her forever.
Her lower body pressed to his. She rubbed silky panties and the smooth skin of her stomach against his cock.
His hands left her breasts, gripped her upper arms and forced a separation. “Get rid of the panties, Grace.”
He released her.
She slipped her thumbs beneath strips of ocean blue, pushed her panties off her hips, letting them fall to the floor.
Mace felt like he’d stepped into a fire. He ate her with his eyes. If he hadn’t discovered in the car that she was smooth and bare, he’d have lost control and dropped to his knees.
“Get on the bed,” he said. It was only a couple of feet away, but if he touched her, they’d never make it.
He couldn’t take his eyes off her as she obeyed him. Wasn’t even aware of shedding his own clothing until he h
ad a knee on the mattress and realized he’d dropped his jeans without snagging a condom.
Go in without. This is Grace. She’s safe.
A shudder of need ripped through him, the strength of it a tsunami warning.
This is Grace. He didn’t dare, not when it was already going to be hard enough to walk away afterward.
He retreated long enough to retrieve the condom. Dropped it onto the bed, his mouth claiming hers as he pushed her backward and came down on top of her.
Ecstasy. Just grinding his cock against her smooth, hot pussy, was fucking ecstasy.
He fisted his hands in her hair, the cool feel of the comforter a sharp contrast to the touch of her skin against his.
This is a mistake.
He ignored the voice, the warning bells, the flashing neon lights telling him to get off her, to get the condom on.
He had to experience the feel of her against him without anything between them just for a minute, then he’d do the smart thing.
Her arms wound around his neck. Her legs wound around his waist.
Desire shuddered through him. Fuck he wanted her. Wanted her like he’d never wanted another woman.
He rocked against her. Temptation drowning out a lifetime of risk aversion when it came to women. He wanted inside Grace.
He lifted his mouth off hers. Feelings of possessiveness deepened at the sight of her puffy lips. Feelings of protectiveness and satisfaction swelled with the fluttery opening of her eyes.
“Make love to me, Mace,” she whispered, shredding what little remained of his resistance. And then his cock was touched to her opening.
Fuck. Fuck.
Thinking was impossible.
Feeling was everything and this felt incredible, better than anything.
He held her gaze, pushed into her, heartbeat pounding in his head, in his dick. His control slipping with every inch until it was nonexistent. Until pleasure was all he cared about.
Hers. His. It was like nothing he’d ever experienced.
He let go. Fucked his tongue into her mouth, fucked his cock into her tight, hot pussy. Fast, hard, you’re mine thrusts that built in intensity, demanded she surrender everything.
In, out.
In, out.
He couldn’t get enough of her. Wasn’t sure he’d ever get enough of her.